As an early and lifelong reader, and a fiction writer since I first learned my ABCs, these past four years have been particularly grating. During these years, I have been writing, but I haven’t been exercising the creative gears that have always made up such a crucial part of my identity. By joining this critique group, I feel like I have reclaimed a sort of dormant part of myself.

I remember as early as kindergarten or first grade, I used our one-sentence vocabulary exercises to write a string of events built around the words instead of single-sentence ideas. (I remember that year I forgot how to spell “was,” so I wrote “wuz,” and really beat myself up over it later.) In fourth grade, my teacher kept a wall of cards from which we could choose to develop our writing, and I chose the most creative ones, using them to tell a miniseries about a killer whale trainer who foils two burglars (I have those stories somewhere). As a shy high schooler, I wrote ALL THE TIME–mostly unfinished works. I wrote about a Western gang of bank-robbers; two kids of a group of alien-hunting scientists in the desert; a man and woman whose car breaks down in the desert and they fall in love. I wrote a poem senior year that made in into our final Honors English exam to be analyzed for extra credit. Most importantly, I began writing Since the Masque.

In sixth or seventh grade, my friend Laura Campanelli slept over and, in the dark, we began telling a story and passing the plot back and forth. We could not go to sleep. It went on forever. When we woke and life went on, I began a novel in fits and starts. She wrote a goofy series about it in composition notebooks, and I began my long history of beginning and deleting, cutting and pasting, revising, and finally dumping all but the first dream sequence of this novel. Even though I stopped writing it down, the story continued in my head. I must have been fourteen or so years old, and now I am twenty-six. Now, I am beginning to write the same story Laura and I made up just about twelve years ago.

Why has it taken me so long? My life was writing before I went to college–and discovered partying. I took all the creative writing classes that were available at my school and at first I flourished, but gradually I wrote just to fulfill the assignment and no more. I wrote from the inside, but the outside world kept calling and my writing suffered for it. My creative writing teacher, at first so complimentary of me and optimistic about my future as a writer, finally called me in during my last semester as an undergrad and gave me a reaming I will never forget. It was harsh, unforgiving, and probably meant as a wake-up call; the result, however, was that I believe I was scared to continue writing. Disappointing her got me so down on myself that I grew too nervous to produce anything, and I finally gave up.

I worked the year after college, met my now-husband, and began graduate school in rhetoric and composition. It didn’t require creative writing, so I continued being a strong academic writer. I wrote my master’s thesis under an incredible person as thesis chair. She really taught me how to revise. Cutting hard research and clever prose got easier when I realized where it wasn’t necessary. I didn’t realize it until later, but completing this nine-month, 174-page project signaled an important turning point in my writing life. I had reached a pinnacle in academic writing, AND I had finished a writing project. It was time to conquer fiction.

I thank Cindy, Kate, Riona, and those members I have not yet met in person for accepting me into their critique group. Writing is a personal journey and when we let others in on the process, we are empowering ourselves and each other. It’s extremely hard, though, when your expectations do not meet those of others, because they are only voicing what you already know for yourself. I have more to prove to myself than anyone else, but I need people to light a fire under my ass to keep me on track. As I get to know you and your writing styles, I hope I can hold that flame to you, too!